


adrift

by Anonymous



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2828951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki dreams...</p>
            </blockquote>





	adrift

Loki dreams in levels of focus--blurred, heady scenes that make him dizzy, or else everything sharp and bright and biting, making his head hurt, making him want to shut his eyes until it all goes away.   
  
Loki's dreams echo the state of his waking mind. Some nights, he dreams in dizzying sharpness, everything so bright and biting that he feels he must squint his eyes lest they burn in his skull. Other nights, scenes blur together--he drifts hazily from scene to scene, his body and mind languid, meandering like a lost wounded animal in the dark.   
  
Being on the run puts him in a tenuous state of reality. He is not quite there, not quite corporeal, able to flit in and out of Being as easy as a breath and a quirk of a smile. He closes his eyes and mutters the incantation and it's like being submerged in still water. He can feel the deafening silence of his non-being, of his barely-there-ness. He drifts in and out of Midgard, watching its inhabitants out of the corner of his eye as he tries not to think, tries to keep his mind blank save for Purpose. He feels himself grasping for it as it escapes him, but still he keeps his mind blank.   
  
He spends time walking into crowded spaces and slowly dissolving himself until he becomes one with the hum of voices and footsteps and droning city life. He shape shifts, flitting frantically as a fly, lazily swooping as a hawk. Sometimes he drifts about, completely incorporeal, surveying the world dispassionately and feeling like the proverbial boy with the magnifying glass in front of the ant hill. He should feel triumphant. He should feel the rush of power, that heady electric feel of his blood singing. Instead, he feels cold, like still water in a cave.

  
\---

 

At night, it all comes rushing back. In his dream, he is less controlled, and everything is loud and flashing, alternating between heady blurs and sharp, dangerous focus. He sees two figures arguing. He sees the blur of fists and weaponry, of blood slick on floors. He hears impassioned shouting, and while he cannot grasp the words he can feel his throat tighten and the now ever-present ache in his heart. His mind zooms in on the precise moment that he sees Thor's face fall. He sees his brother's disappointment tempered by disbelief. By love.   
  
\---

  
In some of the dreams, Thor comes to find him in his icy cave. Thor builds a fire and the ice begins to melt around them. They stare at one another, unblinking, and Thor's stare is less blunt than it once was. Loki knows these to be dreams because he has never seen his brother so understanding. Thor loves, but he does not understand, not really. They sit and say nothing to one another, and though Loki does not meet his Thor's gaze he can feel his brother's sad eyes weighing him down.  
  
\--  
  
Other dreams burn his eyes for hours after waking. In these, he is in a room made of stone, illuminated by a grand roaring fireplace. Thor stares at him, his eyes ablaze, as if his gaze itself could rip Loki apart.Everything is red and orange and yellow, white-hot fire behind his eyes as he and Thor shout and come to blows.   
  
Thor's anguish at his betrayal turns to blunt rage--an easier emotion, to be sure--and he lunges at Loki. Loki evades the first blow, a smirk playing on his face, the smile never reaching his eyes, and he strikes back. The blow catches Thor on the chin, and Thor grits his teeth and roars, tackling them to the ground. In the back of his mind, Loki's civll self tuts in disappointment at the savagery. Mostly he can feel his blood singing, the headiness of the anger and rage and realness of the way Thor's fist cracks against his jaw. He spits blood in his brother's face and laughs. His laugh is discordantly joyful. The iron taste in his mouth spurs him on, and he does not care that next moves are clumsy. As he lunges, Thor stays his hand and yanks him by the hair until they are both on the ground, scuffling like they did when they were children. Loki's laugh arpeggios off the walls, his eyes rolling back and he feels Thor's weight pressing the air out of his lungs. He gasps as he feels teeth sink into his neck. The act has changed now. Thor is practically snarling into his neck like a wild animal. Loki can feel the rasp of his beard against his neck as Thor worries the skin there with his teeth. He feels his fists clench at his sides, and then relaxes. He threads his fingers into his brother's hair, tugs him upwards until his lips are flush with the warrior's ear, and whispers, "Hurt me."  
  
Loki should have known that this is something that Thor would understand. Thor meets Loki's eyes, pupils dilated, teeth grit and face flushed, and Loki has only a moment to drink the sight in before he is backhanded across the face roughly. The slap echoes wetly as more blood is spattered onto the ground below. Loki cries out as Thor wrenches his body up and throws him down roughly, grinds his face into the stone.   
  
"Traitor."  
  
The word echoes off the stone walls, framed by the crackling of the fire behind them.   
  
"Liar."  
  
Loki says nothing to these things because they are true. 

Thor yanks him up by his hair again, and their lips meet. Thor bites his lip savagely, and Loki groans, arching instinctively. A strong hand forces air from his throat while the other rips his clothes off with brute force and efficiency. Thor flips him around and shoves him forward. The stone bites into his knees, scraping them until they bleed. The taste of hot iron gushes from his split lip, and from where he has bitten his cheek to bite back cries of embarrassed pleasure. Thor is not gentle. Neither of them could abide it.   
  
When Thor grasps his hips with strong hands and pushes in, Loki's cry echoes off the stone walls, anguished and ecstatic. With a hand grasped in his hair, Thor fucks him brutally, ripping cries out of Loki as he bruises him with his hands, leans down to bite the back of Loki's neck and fucks him like a rutting beast. He can feel Thor's fingers crushing bruises into his hips, and when Thor pulls out only to thrust back in with greater force, Loki comes--the pain and pleasure are white-hot, sending shivers down his skin. He feels his brother groan behind him and knows that his brother has taken his pleasure as well when he feels the hot wetness flood inside him.   
  
The room is quiet now, save for the crackling of a dying fire and their harsh intermingled breaths. Loki slumps forward and lays prone on the stone floor. He rests his head on the rough stone and lets his body go slack. The grain of the stone cuts into his cheek. He lets his breathing steady.   
  
Thor lies down beside him, staring at the ceiling. He does not look at Loki. He does not need to.   
  
Their breathing falls in step with one another. Loki feels a rough hand carding through his hair. He leans into the touch, and they say nothing.   
  
They lay there, watching the fire die down to nothingness. 

  
\--  
  
Loki wakes from these dreams with a tightness in his chest. He can feel his pulse running through him, his blood feeling more heated than his monster side should ever allow. The space around him feels even emptier than usual. He tries not to allow himself time to ruminate on these dreams in waking life. Thor will find him eventually. For now, he drifts off, floats above the world, and waits.

 


End file.
